


Jemmagical

by notapepper



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Academy Era, Fluff, Magical!Jemma AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-06 23:25:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11611140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notapepper/pseuds/notapepper
Summary: Fitz had always known Jemma was special.  He just didn’t realize quite how much.





	Jemmagical

**Author's Note:**

  * For [memorizingthedigitsofpi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/memorizingthedigitsofpi/gifts).



> Based on a [prompt](http://memorizingthedigitsofpi.tumblr.com/post/162499798512/memorizingthedigitsofpi) by the wonderful [memorizingthedigitsofpi](http://archiveofourown.org/users/memorizingthedigitsofpi/pseuds/memorizingthedigitsofpi), who also did the adorable manip! #blessed
> 
> (The prompt was amazing, but I cheated a little and focused on their time at the Academy rather than on Season 1.)
> 
> Enjoy!

 

 

-o-

 

It was the little things.  
 

The first time, he didn’t even notice.  It was a particularly rainy Sunday — a thunderstorm so bad it soaked Fitz through to his socks and made it so he couldn’t even appreciate the weather for its nostalgic value.  He’d just ducked into the Academy’s student center, stamping his feet and using a wad of paper napkins from the small café there to try and restore his hair.  Somehow, he’d managed to get his curls from “irrevocably waterlogged” to “can’t do a _thing_ in this humidity” when in walked Jemma Simmons, in all her bright-eyed, ponytailed glory.  Because of _course_ he’d run into the only girl he cared about impressing whilst looking like a poodle halfway done at the groomers.

As (bad) luck would have it, he found himself directly in Jemma’s path.  She was carrying a stack of folders in her arms, clad in a wool cardigan that drove a spike of longing through his chilled, sodden heart.  For a fleeting moment, he wanted nothing more than to step forward and surround himself in her warmth, but of course, that might be a bit forward considering he’d never properly introduced himself.  She paused in front of him, her eyes flitting nearby (presumably to find a route around him and his floor-puddle) before chirping out a polite, “Good afternoon!”

He stood there, gaping uselessly and more than a little envious of her ability to speak like a normal person, before his brain kicked in with the urgent need to respond and he blurted out, “Afternoon.”

She nodded, bouncing in place a bit as if she were expecting him to say something else.

 _Shit.  Talk about the weather?_  “Not _good_ afternoon though.”  Her eyes widened.   _Oh, crap.  Crap crap bloody crap why—_

“Not that your afternoon isn’t good!  Just, er—”   _Oh, Hell._  “I mean, I don’t know anything about your afternoon!  It’s not as if I’m following you.”  Why wasn’t his mouth shutting up?  “Because I’m not!  I don’t even know your schedule!”  He cringed, mouthing a silent _what_.

She let out a small, awkward laugh.  “Right, well!”  Her shoulders bunched and she stepped around him as best she could while he was still in the entryway.  “Sorry, would you mind—  I just need to… erm…”  She gestured with her armload of work to the study tables.

“Oh!  Of course, yeah.”  He shuffled backwards, the wet squelch of his shoes a grimacing reminder that he was still in his damp jumper, bits of soggy napkin stuck to his Very Brady hair, looking for all the world like a drowned squirrel and just as cranky.

Although, compared to falsely outing himself as two Polaroids shy of a stalker, his terrible appearance was really just the cherry on the shit Sunday he’d been having.  And perhaps it was his own gut-punching regret over the conversation, or perhaps he was simply so accustomed to her loveliness in both face and personality, but Fitz didn’t even think to question that Jemma wasn’t carrying an umbrella.

-o-

He’d stayed late to finish mocking up some ideas for their new project in Dr. Hall’s elective, but it was nearing midnight and he needed to get up early the next day if he was going to be able to call his mum before class.  As he passed the biology labs, he noticed a pale green glow coming from inside one.  Curiosity won out over exhaustion and he stuck his head around the doorframe to see who else would be there at this ungodly hour.

“Simmons?”  As if it could be anyone _but_ Jemma, competitive as she was.  Maybe, he hoped, the fact that he was here too might impress her.  And it would probably take a lot to, given that she seemed to have invented some sort of floating, orb-shaped flashlight.

“Oh!  Fitz.  I didn’t see you there.”

The light winked out immediately, leaving only the dim overnight fluorescents.   _Probably doesn’t want me nicking her ideas_ , he thought idly, though surely Simmons must realize he couldn’t do half what she could when it came to the biological components.

“Are you experimenting with bioluminescence?”   _Stupid._  She clearly didn’t want him inquiring about whatever she was doing, so why in the world would he go and—

“Yes!  Right, yes, that's what I’m… Yeah.  Bioluminescence.  Very good, Fitz!”

“Oh.  Brilliant!”

Her brow furrowed.  “Is that a pun?”

“Erm… It could be?”   _Please like puns._

“Hmm.”  She was giving nothing away tonight, it seemed.  “Well, have a nice evening!”

“Ah.  Yep.”  He did a kind of finger-gun-slash-wave, shrilled out a catastrophic, “Goodnice!” and rather than correct himself, promptly retreated to the hallway where he bashed his skull against the wall.  Or at least, he attempted to bash his skull, but with his energy levels at an all-day low, the most he could manage was a sad-sounding _thunk_ .  The timeline in his head for impressing Simmons readjusted with a zoom, pages flipping and numbers scrolling, until a robotic voice in his mind declared, “It has now been - _zero_ \- days since your last social disaster.”

-o-  
 

They were in the lab.  Jemma was turning one direction to grab a pipette, and her elbow caught an empty beaker.  Fitz braced himself for the sound of shattering glass and a mess to clean, but it never came.  A fraction of a second before impact, the beaker seemed to slow down, clinking harmlessly into a roll and bumping the bottom of their workstation.

“Ah!  Clumsy…” Jemma apologized, bending down to retrieve the bit of glassware.  “We’re lucky it didn’t break!”  

“Yeah,” he agreed.  “Remember last week, when Bakulic knocked down that whole set of Erlenmeyers?  Complete madness.”  Fitz was still finding bits of flask in the strangest places.

“Yes, well, as I said, didn’t I?  Lucky!”  Jemma pushed her materials a bit further back on the table and straightened the front of her jumper.  “Tick tock, then, Fitz!  Back to work!”

If she seemed a bit flushed, he put it down to her perfectionist tendencies.

-o-

“And that, Miss Spadaccini, is why I assigned the reading, isn’t it?”  Dr. Vaughn loomed over the mousy scientist, who sat scribbling furiously in her notebook (as an excuse, Fitz guessed, not to have to look up at Vaughn’s smug asshole face).  “Well? Care to inform the class why you would ignore your responsibilities?  Did you think you wouldn’t be called on?”

“Dr. Vaughn,” she stammered, “It’s not— I did the reading, I just have so many—”

“If you did the reading, then you should have no trouble answering my question, shouldn’t you?”

“I’m sorry, I had my notes right here—”

“If you expect to succeed in this organization, Miss Spadaccini, then you shouldn’t need your notes to solve a simple theoretical problem,” Vaughn pressed.  Out of the corner of his eye, Fitz saw Jemma’s hand twitch.

“Yes, sir, I just need a minute, please.”

“I'm afraid you leave me no choice.” Vaughn readjusted his glasses with a sneer.  “I’ll be expecting—”

Anything else Vaughn was going to say was cut off when he let out an enormous sneeze.  He blinked, and tried again.

“You will deliver, onto my desk, by 8am tomorrow, a—”

This time, one sneeze dissolved into a fit of them, and by the time he’d recovered, gasping and tear-streaked, the dismissal tone had sounded throughout the room.  
 

-o-  
 

“Hurry up, Fitz!  I am not missing Dr. Banner’s lecture for the sake of your shoelaces.”

He grumbled from where he knelt, “So you’d rather I just fell on my face, then?”

“Ugh, Fitz!  This might be my only chance to meet with Dr. Banner and—”  Jemma paled.  “Oh, no.”

“What?”

“Oh, no, no, no, no, no!”  Her hands began to clench and unclench, worrying at the hem of her sweater.

“Simmons, what?  I’m sure whatever it is, we can fix it.”

“No, Fitz!  I’ve forgotten my research!  I was going to ask him to take a look — after I impressed him at the Q & A, of course, with a list of carefully chosen questions — and it was going to set off a new era of partnership between SHIELD and Baxter Labs and I had it all together, ready to go…”  She trailed off before bringing her hands up to her neck.  “Oh, this is awful!”

“Simmons, stop.”  Fitz stood, brushing off his knee.  “We’re almost criminally early — at your insistence, by the way, I would’ve liked a few more minutes in the canteen to finish my chips.  So we’ll just head back to your room and fetch it, yeah?  It’ll be alright.”

“But if we don’t get there first, Milton will take the good seats!  You know how petty he’s been ever since I broke his heart.”

“Mm, he is horrible,” Fitz hummed.  “Okay, new plan.  I’ll keep going, get us the best seats, and you just meet me there.”

“Oh,” Jemma’s lips pursed, her eyes flitting between the direction of the lecture hall and the dormitories as she weighed her options.  “Would you?”

“Pffft.  As if I’d pass up a chance to piss off _Wilty Milty_.”  He dodged before Jemma could swat him.  “But you’d better get going if you want to make it on time.”

“And _you’d_ better make sure you get the right seats!  I want to be in Dr. Banner’s eyeline at all times.”

He chuckled.  “I can’t very well control where the man looks, Jemma.”  At her panicked stare, he soothed, “But I’ll do my best.”

Fitz slid into the auditorium that was slowly filling up with students, and grabbed a pair of spots in the front row before pulling out a notebook and pen.  He shifted his backpack in his lap, realized he’d block traffic if he put it at his own feet, and decided to set it on Jemma’s chair to reserve it.  Satisfied, he turned back to his notes, only to hear Jemma calling him from the other side of the hall.  

“Fitz!  The light’s better over here!”

Startled, he checked his watch and looked around in surprise.  “What the Hell…?”  He grabbed his belongings and dashed over to Jemma, who was digging around in her purse.  “Did you change your mind about going back for the data?”

“Not at all!” she announced, proudly holding up a small jump drive.  “Thank you for offering to help, but it appears I was overly worried.”  She crinkled her nose.  “Still, better safe, wouldn’t you say?”

“What— uhh, how— I mean, how did you make it back so quickly?”  He’d brought up a mental map of Sci-Tech, and there was simply no way.

“Oh, you know,” she demurred.  “I do use the treadmill.”  
 

-o-

Sally.  Bloody.  Webber.

Everyone knew her as a prankster, and Fitz had long found her unpleasant to be around (but then, Fitz didn’t care for many of his peers as it was).  Still, there was something especially grating in the way Sally was carrying on this time, her broad voice filling up the hall and making it rather difficult, for Fitz at least, to concentrate on his lunch tray.

“I’m telling you, SHIELD is hiding powered people!  They have testing facilities!  Secret labs!  They’ve been injecting people with all sorts of stuff, and the results are straight outta science fiction.”

Fitz rolled his eyes and nudged Jemma, who was looking a little pale.  “Can you believe her?”

Sally kept on.  “ESP!  Telekinesis!  Spontaneous combustion!  Super-strength!”

Jemma laughed shakily.  “It’s nonsense, obviously.  There’s no scientific evidence… well, the simple fact that she’s calling it super-strength, as if…  honestly, it’s—” Her cheeks colored, a nervous titter escaping.  “Do you suppose she’s been reading too many comic books?”  She swallowed drily.

“Simmons?  You okay?”

“Right as rain.”  Her grip tightened around her fork.  “Let’s just finish our meal before we have to listen to any more of this _ridiculous_ —”

Suddenly, gasps pierced the din.  Whipping his head to look around, Fitz saw several cafeteria trays slowly rising from the tables, hovering unsupported in mid-air as their owners backed away in shock.

A beat of silence held, as the diners collectively held their breath.

Then someone shouted, “Food fight!” and from there, chaos reigned.  Mashed potatoes went flying, silverware scattered, cola splashed into sticky puddles along the floors and benches.  

At his side, Jemma had gone into a panic, eyes darting side to side as she muttered quiet denials to herself.  

“No, no, oh, this can’t be, it’s not— this isn’t my— who could possibly—” she ranted, low at first and then louder and louder in volume, until a frazzled scream tore from her throat to join the widespread cacophony.

“We have to get out of here!” she cried out, grabbing Fitz’s hand and yanking him towards the exit.

They stumbled, slipping on stray food, and Fitz grimaced at the sensation of a slimy noodle sliding down his hair and into his collar.  They’d only just reached the doors when, with a clatter of trays, the panic ebbed.  In the midst of it, they heard a cackle.  

Sally waved her arms, holding up two remote control pads, and chortled so violently she could barely catch her breath.  Tears trickled past her cheeks as she mocked the student body.  “You guys!  You totally— this— was the— best one— yet!” she heaved in between guffaws.  “Oh god!  Your f- faces!”

“Oh, well that’s just typical, isn’t it,” Fitz groused.  “Ruin a perfectly good meal, and for what.  Bloody freshman pranks.”

At his side, Jemma still looked ashen.  “Just awful,” she agreed, doing her best to affect annoyance.  She wasn’t quite successful, and something about the tremble in her voice made Fitz’s back straighten.

“Simmons?  Hey,” he said, regarding her carefully.  “It’s okay to be upset by that.  It was in poor taste.”

“Oh, that?” she scoffed, still too high-pitched to fool anyone.  “Please! That was nothing.  I’m not the least bit unsettled by some… _foolish_ display, only intended to— intended to—”  Her forehead wrinkled as words left her.

He was gentle as he took her arm.  “Let’s go sit in the quad, yeah?”

By the time they got to the stone bench Jemma favored for outside reading, she’d calmed down significantly.

“So,” Fitz started once they’d sat.  “Wanna talk about it?”

Jemma let out a heavy sigh.  “Do we have to?  I’m embarrassed enough already.”

He was silent a long moment.  “I ever tell you about the ghost I saw when I was six?”

She rolled her eyes.  “Fitz—”

“No, really!  We were on a camping holiday, and I’d left to, ah, well— I had to wee before bed, if you must know— and I saw it… out over the water.  A sort of bluish light.”  

“A wisp, you mean.”  Her tone was flat.

His cheeks pinked, and he scratched at his ear.  “Yeah, I s’pose.  Thought it was a ghost.”

“Wisps are methane gas that—”

“Well I know that now, but I was only small, y’know?  So I screamed.”  He nudged her with his shoulder, grinning.  “Like a little girl, if you can picture it, though I’m sure you _can’t_.”

Her lips quirked.  “I might be able to, with great difficulty.”

“Right, and my mum comes running with my da, and I told them what I saw.”

Her head tilted.  “What did they do?”

“Ah, yeah.”  His lips pressed together.  “My mum — she’s always loved fairy stories — starts going on about how it’s not a ghost but a pixie, and my da… erm, well.”  He picked at a ragged cuticle.  “He cuffed me for raising a fuss, and told us both to stop being stupid and get back to the campsite.”  Fitz leaned his weight on his hands, gripping the edge of the bench and hanging his head.  “Until I heard you scream tonight, I didn’t think you ever got scared.”

She inhaled, nodding.  “For a moment, earlier, I thought I might… or perhaps, Sally… I don’t know.  I didn’t know who was causing that.”

“And you didn’t like it.”  His hand inched over to cover hers, patting it briefly.  “Well, good news is, we’re the best scientists in our year… so between the two of us, I doubt there’s anything we _can’t_ explain.”

She tipped her head back, a pained moue flitting across her face as she gazed up into the night sky.  “I think you might be surprised.”

-o-

In the end, it took Jemma literally flying for Fitz to accept the existence of the supernatural.    
 

He’d rounded a corner in the library stacks, only to find her floating, honest-to-god _floating_ , near the top shelf, two heavy books perched precariously in her arms.  And while shrieking may not have been the most helpful reaction, it’s not as if he could help it, now could he?

Jemma tumbled to the ground, landing hard on her behind and scattering her books around her before scowling up at him.  “Ugh, Fitz! What on Earth?” she chided.

“Wha— buh—”  His wits flared back to life.  “Don’t you _ugh, Fitz_ me!  You were…” he lowered his voice to a whisper.  “You were _floating_!”

Her eyebrows shot up.  “No!  No, I most certainly was…”  Her mouth worked soundlessly for a moment.  “Rocket shoes!  I made rocket shoes.”

“Rocket shoes.”  His mouth twisted skeptically.  “You put together working jet-propulsion shoes, an engineering marvel that even I’ve not managed to perfect.”

She blinked.

“On your own. Without telling me.”  His eyes narrowed. “And somehow kept me from finding out, despite the fact that we frequently share a workspace.”

“Ah… yes!”  She nodded vehemently.

He crossed his arms.  “Well?  Can I see them?”

“What?”

“Can I see them?”  He motioned to her feet.  “Come on, I won’t pretend I’m not jealous, and I think this puts to rest our wager as to who’s smarter.”

A guilty look flickered over her cheeks, and she opened her mouth in clear denial.  He waved her off.

“No, no, it’s fine.”  He sighed, then let himself get excited. “More than fine, it’s fantastic, Simmons!  Think how impressive this’ll be to the higher-ups!  You’ll be stationed at the Hub straight-out, I’d guess.”

“Oh, it’s… nothing, surely…”  She lowered her gaze, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

“What are you talking about?”  He crouched, peering at her footwear.  “God, they look _exactly_ like the trainers you wear every day!  Can you imagine how useful these’ll be in the field?”  

He looked even closer.  “Wait, where’d you put the fuel?”  He let out a low whistle.  “Reckon I could get a peek at the schematics?”  He was pretty sure puppy eyes weren’t his forte, but he tried them out anyway.  “Or, y’know, just take one off and let me see?  Please?  I’ll be your best friend,” he added cheekily.

“All right!  Enough!” she hissed.  “I can’t do this anymore.”

“What?”  The hurt in her face was baffling.  Did she think he was going to steal her ideas?  They were _friends_ now, damn it.  “Simmons, what’s going on?”

She held out a hand and let him help lift her up, then brushed off her jeans.  “Not here.”

The walk back to her dorm was thick with tension.  Jemma’s hands didn’t stop moving the whole time, wringing her fingers between them, clutching at her sleeves, smoothing out her hair.  By the time her door closed behind them, Fitz was practically in a panic.

_She’s gonna tell me off.  She never liked me.  She only pretended to be my friend so she could get help with maths, and now that she’s surpassed me in that she’s going to abandon me and run off to the Hub and marry some burly six-footer named Donaldo and make dozens of beautiful patents._

“So, I don’t exactly know how to say this, so I’m just going to say it.”

Fitz swallowed bile, and nodded.  He couldn’t meet her eyes.

“I have magic.”  
 

-o-

For a second, her words swam in the air between them, and Jemma wondered if Fitz were having some sort of episode.  After a moment, however, he broke into a confused giggle.  “What?”

“I have magical abilities.  But you can’t tell anyone!”

After another few beats of dumbstruck silence, she raised her eyes heavenward, marveling at how Fitz could believe all her nonsense excuses and not believe her now.  “Look.”

Holding her hand out, she concentrated.  Suddenly, a burst of flame appeared over her flat palm.  The fireball got larger, almost golf-ball-sized before she closed her fist.

“Simmons!” he yelped.  “You’ll burn—”

Her fingers opened up again, and he could only stare as she waved unblemished skin in front of his face.  “You see, Fitz?  Magic.”

His eyes squeezed shut.  “Ah.”

“I can do more—”

“Hang on.”  He held up a finger.  “Just, just don’t—”

He inhaled slowly, bringing his hands up to rake through his hair.  “So, all this time—”

“You can’t tell anyone, Fitz.  SHIELD doesn’t even know.”

“No.  That’s not—”  His eyes opened, accusing.  “All this time, Simmons?  You’ve been lying?”

Her spine straightened in affront.  “Surely you can see why I had to—”

“To me.  You’ve been lying to _me_ ?” he demanded.  “And you’re, you— my mum always told me fairy stories, but that’s all they were!  Stories!”  He swept a hand over his face.  “You have _magic_ , Simmons, but you’re a scientist!”

“You think I don’t know that?”  Why did he think she’d gone into her field, if not to understand how things worked?  Why it was so personal for her?

He gestured at her, insistent.  “How long?”  His feet shifted.  “I mean, was it an accident, or have you always been—”  His face twisted.  “Oh, bloody Hell.  That time I— and when— and that day we—”  He dropped his head into his hands.  “Christ, I’m an idiot!”

With a jolt, she remembered his story about being young, not in control, and afraid of the unknown.   _Fitz hates change._  “Fitz,” she pleaded, “I swear, nothing’s different between us, right?  I’m still… the fact that I’m trusting you with this should be evidence enough—”

“I— I dunno.  I don’t know what to think.”  He looked away, and his shoulders dropped.

“What?” she whispered.  “What are you saying?”

He stared at the ground, then blew out a breath.  Their eyes met, his lips curling oddly in a way that failed to match intensity of the moment.  “I just didn’t expect this from my best friend.”

“I can’t help it, Fitz.” She felt tears start to build under her eyelids.  “It’s who I am.”  Blinking furiously, she reeled at the thought that Fitz, steadfast Fitz of all people, would reject her now.

“No, oh, I didn’t mean it like that.”  Instantly contrite, his hand darted forward to grip hers tightly.  “I don’t care about that, Simmons.  I just think,” and his tone turned defensive again, “that as your closest friend…”

“I should’ve told you.”  

“Not necessarily!  It makes sense you’d keep it a secret!” he placated.

Her lips bunched in annoyance.  “Well then, what?”

His mouth dropped open.  “Erm, I should think it’s _obvious_.”

“I may have magic, Fitz, but I’m not a mind reader,” she huffed.

“Well, you remember when I dropped my phone during that training exercise?  Completely shattered?”

“Yes…” she continued, dubious.  “You modified your next one for maximum impact resistance.  It was quite the accomplishment.”

“But the repair cost me a month’s spending money!  I mean, Simmons, you couldn’t have, just, y’know?”  He wiggled his nose back and forth.

She leveled him with a glare.  “That’s _Bewitched_.”

“Or, what, you don’t think I would’ve liked an extra five minutes of sleep every morning, little miss fast-travel?  Hmm?”  He was openly smirking at her now.

She harrumphed.  “If you didn’t stay up quite so late, that wouldn’t be an issue.”

“Or how about all those times you let me haul the stepladder over to the supply cabinet, when you only needed to…”  He flapped his arms at his sides.

“I’m not a trained monkey, Fitz.”

“No, ‘course not.  You won’t let me get one of those.”  His expression brightened instantly.  “Oh!  Can you talk to animals?  Let’s go to the zoo and find out!”  He clasped his hands, imploring.  “Please?”

“I’m not having this conversation,” she said primly, and began collecting her bag.  

“Ah!  I’ve got it!  Those healthy biscuits you keep foisting on me, any chance you could make them edible?  Not that I don’t love the taste of plaster board.”

“Good _bye_ , Fitz.”  
 

-o-  
 

Far in the future, when asked to study inexplicable phenomena, Fitz and Simmons would both declare with absolute confidence, “It’s not magic.  It’s science.”

 

- _fin_ -

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks as always to my fabulous betas, [Cic](http://archiveofourown.org/users/atomicsupervillainess/works) and [Pi](http://archiveofourown.org/users/memorizingthedigitsofpi/works) for this one! Go check out their stuff!
> 
> AND OH MY GOSH CHECK OUT THIS AMAZING GRAPHIC THAT PI MADE OF FITZ'S "SOCIAL INTERACTIONS" SIGN
> 
>  
> 
> Hope you liked it!


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